Long Cuffed Poems
Long Cuffed Poems. Below are the most popular long Cuffed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cuffed poems by poem length and keyword.
This is…..well
I live close to an airport
and a factory just exploded near
a bit of me was a bit disappointed
If this is my intro
Duck shin
It gets worse
What do you think And drew
a breath
thought when he looked upon
William is WIll.I.AM without
spots clouts spouts
Can you be blem or is it just ish
Do they
make prince shaped hand
Cuffed
Is just cuf well fed
Zombie symbol in his purpled stilleto boots
pierce the pedo Prince you disgraced
My name is
slime covered babies
Just a question are you sure
you didn’t give me the after
birth death the mess betw in een
I know what comes after death.
just a full stop
See I am sure there is more of me’s in hear
and if you think
I used the wrong hear the rest of me’s
are listening
in case
The me that’s
Righting escape
messages to you
Need to go their starting
to form groups
In the shadows
Skirt hiked up
legs ungracefully spread
inviting.
Between those limbs, chords darken
where pale angels go blind.
A deep ewer of sound
pours from palpating fingers.
While her other hand
strokes the pulse of a
sonorant beast
carved from lava.
Her body croons
wrists cuffed to the music,
closed eyes
bathe naked in dark pools.
A depth climbs to a tree top
yet the music
is still the lowest place on earth.
I am nudged into her
by the sweep of her arm,
the weeping intensity
of her shoulders.
The cantabile purse
of her open lips.
There is no place to be
other than inside
the voice of her cello,
skull drumming
to a spiccato cadence,
as her bow softly taps
on the strung spine
of a bruised sorrow.
What was left within her? There was nothing ever spoke.
Did she mean anything to anyone or was her life just a joke?
She wasn't laughing, she was crying tears too big to shed
The wounds continued bleeding and infection seemed to spread.
She knew that she wouldn't make it, she knew that she would die
For years she'd been in this place there was no one to reply.
Words are like arrows and sometimes pierce us to the core
They're thrown around haphazardly and then they throw some more.
To this prisoner of silence, alone in her cell,
A word of life could do so much, it could change her world.
She cried out daily for a rescue to take place
She longed for her time to be up and maybe she could taste
A part of life she'd never known to be available to see
Something different from the ugly darkness, where is her beauty?
A guard came to the cell with a visitor in tow
Said his name was Truth and he had a richened glow
that lifted some of the darkness that had cuffed her in so tight.
It was then that she began to see things in a different light.
He told her she he could free her and her eyes changed with a small hope
She was very scared and put her chained hands out slightly to grope
To find his hand not knowing what to expect
He gave her something glassy that seemed to reflect.
She saw it was a mirror and held it up to her eyes.
They were full of pain and sorrow, there was no way to disguise
The anguish and abuse that covered her in a shallow grave
She had become more than a victim, she'd become a slave.
Form:
I wake up in the morning
With the alarm clock going off
The Major League would hire me
If they got a look at that toss
Landing perfectly in the trash
On the other side of the room
Didn't wake up then
Till mid-afternoon
Pretty sure for certain
My boss is wondering why me he hired
On the job less than a week
And already on the verge of being fired
Forgot to pay my phone bill
So I couldn't give him a call
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
Too cheap to buy flowers
So I pick them out in left field
Right next to the honey patch
With bees munching their meals
Brought them home to my girlfriend
Who proceeded to sneeze and cough
With a case of hay fever
This didn't go over as well as I thought
Her sneezing also interrupted
The bees in the bunch
Sticking their heads out from
The middle of lunch
That's when Miss Noisy
Was repeatedly stung
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
Needing to withdraw my measly savings
I head down to the bank
Step inside and holler HOLD UP
As I was running late
All the tellers they screamed
And pointed accusingly at me
As I stood there in the middle
Of all the melee
The cops roughed me and cuffed me
And took me to jail
With no boss and no girlfriend
To pay on my bail
Now here I sit in the slammer
With no idea of how long
Seems the only thing I do right
Is doing wrong
TATTOO DEPORTATION
I’d almost forgotten that damned tattoo
A small symbol that years ago, I had got
It was a couple of lads, drunk on vacation
The tattooist did it in red on my shoulder
I’m a bit embarrassed now that I am older
Its meaning, I never heard any explanation
Just that for a day or two, my skin felt hot
It’s small and discreet, so what should I do
The symbol meant almost nothing to me
A kind of squiggly letter, kind of Arabic
Yet I thought nothing of it at immigration
But wearing a singlet vest it was on display
The guy scowled and others took me away
I tried to plead ignorance, I wasn’t Haitian
Yet cuffed, I got scared and felt quite sick
Marched off to an office, no longer free
It was a nightmare that lasted several days
They kept pointing at the symbol, annoyed
It appeared to be a sign of local rebel group
And plaintively, ever insisting I knew zero
Perhaps they thought I was the group hero
I was sweaty, trying to jump through a hoop
Thinking of damaging phrases I had to avoid
And all the time under the guy’s steely gaze
Finally, with no answers given, I was spared
Hustled back to a plane, to be headed home
By now, there was some local press interest
I looked up that symbol and found the link
But it was not quite what others may think
I was keeping silent, as I just thought it best
As my world had turned into monochrome
With it now erased, well, I no longer cared
Initially, an attempt
sought regarding Das scribe,
yours truly donning checkerboarded rawhide
collared, cuffed oversize raiment, pride
and prejudice obscured
courtesy hand-me-downs
couture also decking out
alley oop trapeze artist bride
of Frankenstein grooming in attendance
with her bonafide
circus motley crew, a veritable
monster mish mashup
happenstance didst decide
unlike traditional feted newlyweds
swingers airborne did only abide.
The law of gravity aerial
pas de deux bodies airborne
aloft pledging their respective troths sworn
fleeting suspended animation while shorn
infinitesimally of Earth's pull
only expert can playfully scorn
accomplishment courtesy no greenhorne
neophytes in utero umbilical cord,
taking root as metaphorical acorn,
thus unbridled and groomed skill inborn
burst out the womb like heated popcorn
snapped up since birth well worn
genes Ringling Brothers and
Barnum & Bailey circus practiced morn
till night stunts became second nature
encore performance no matters bodies outworn.
Curtain Call now doth close
unrehearsed poetic gambit,
cuz yours truly tuckered out I suppose
ready to take his doze
zee dough into dreamland, expose
zing oft times confused
with dark shadow of outer limits
of twilight zone, where me lovely bones froze
where sudden night mare arose
gripping courtesy rigor mortis head to toes
daunting wordsmith champion
manifestation of daily woes.
Suddenly me clutched
by melancholic despair
somnambulantly where
countless tomb morrows tramp
scarcely undifferentiated from yesterday's care
wracking psyche with wrath plus fear
at accursed purposelessness near
faux sing myself regarding pas
city to emulate good cheer.
In ‘96, the gavel cracked like thunder,
Though my hands held no storm.
A verdict etched in iron,
For a crime I never formed.
They saw a shadow—chose me to fit it.
Three blue uniforms spoke like fate:
“Take the fall, son.
This case is bigger than your name.”
That night I ran—not from guilt,
But from the chaos I couldn’t decode.
Police lights bloomed like fireflies,
And I begged the stars for mercy owed.
Each breath a prayer,
Each stride a plea to the heavens.
But my feet couldn’t outrun the truth—
My family needed me present, not legend.
So I turned myself in,
Heart cuffed with trembling pride.
Lost the life I once knew,
To live the one they prescribed.
I went down not for the crime,
But for refusing to vanish.
To stand in stormlight and scream
“I’m not what you brandish!”
Years passed, carving steel into my spine,
Not bitterness, but resolve.
From shattered glass I rose—
Sharper than before, stronger evolved.
And if you ask what broke me,
It wasn’t prison or the blame.
It was watching justice masquerade
With a liar’s flame.
I guess pride goes before one hell of a fall...
But the man who fell
Didn’t stay down at all.
courtesy sharp pointed objects
(that string of words
doth hoop fully connive fist
(cuffed) around handles of knife
discounting divorce (from wife)
i.e. remaining uncoupled
mandated eventually note hissed
unbridled love and apology
toward thee missus and progeny
who forever did blacklist
das scribe, how objectionable
now, he profusely kissed
mouth of other voluptuous
(zoftig) older women
(consensually, flatteringly, indiscriminately)
and amazingly enough spouse did insist
to forgive, boot never forget.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
thus very little paternal (filial) love expressed
and she chose to live yonder
Oakland, California her temporary dwelling
no matter, her papa blatantly confessed
YES, more'n his eye did wonder.
At present petty coated junction irreparable schism
doth rank as horrendous on par me adopting fascism
forever sullied image ("daddy's girl")
who once thought the world of me
selfish misdeeds buzzfeeding swelling egoism
no more how enlightened I became
ex post facto, pure unconditional acceptance
refracted light risque behavior thru prism
where primary parental accountability
not satisfactorily explained away courtesy
Darwinism (to seed genes), nor chauvinism,
whereby ever since time immemorial
men disregarded and hardened libido
against marital covenant.
Even President Trump suggests
we all should wear a protective mask;
breathing is hard, but it saves lives,
if we don't wear it one time we'll get sick.
The advice of doctor Fauci is smart;
avoid arrogant and silly remarks
of people that say, " They're taking away
our freedom, we are feeling the impact! "
Aren't protests and clenched fists seen daily
to encourage the words that the crowd shouts?
The mask dilemma has raised questions marks,
some rather suffer the dire cosequences;
has democracy become another nullified word?
Who believes that resrictions are wrong?
Why fight the police and get hand-cuffed
for an agenda that turns many into a dumb frog?
My eyeballs move as though witnessing scenes within eyelids.
Face, just like obeying commands of some far-off spirits, skids
Heaven, with the triune god and the angels illumine
I cross the boundaries and reach all realms beyond human
Truth and untruth are tenderly mixed like milk and water.
Where's my skill gone that culls out shapes from mud as a potter?
There's a sensation. It's like the touch on a touch-me-not.
Between what's seen and unseen, known and unknown, there's a knot.
As a small drama that is enacted within a long play
Does the unsaid truth sparkle, piercing the veils of each ray?
Do the deeds of good overpower the deeds of evil?
Between brain, bones, blood, nerves, and muscles, there's an upheaval.
Sitting aside my flowing stream of thoughts and thoughtlessness
Do I, the dreamer, discover my own dream's plotlessness?
Cuffed with cautions, causations, cognitions, and cogitations
Aren’t each dream and the dreamer bound by vague limitations?